Remnants
by da-mouse
Summary: How they came to love, and how they must say goodbye. Character-sketch like of some sorts. -YohxAnna-


**Disclaimer**: Takei owns it all (because if I owned it, I wouldn't have given it a crapped-out ending like he did).

**Note**: I'm having exams. It's traditional. I angst Yoh and Anna whenever I have exams. Set loosely to Alicia Key's _If I Ain't Got You_, but this is not a song-fic (I hate songfics with a passion).

For **Reen**, who put the Yoh/Anna faith back in me. For **Mummy Ringo**, just because I love you.

**Remnants  
**written by: da-mouse ®

-

_Some people want it all_

_But I don't want anything at all_

-

Everyone had a window to their soul. A small space that was special, precious and yet, vulnerable. A little window that tells all you need to know about a certain someone.

Some people said she did not possess a soul, let alone an opening to it. Devil child was what they called her, and devil woman she was to those who didn't understand her, and didn't even bother to try to understand her. She grew up in the mountains of snow and wind, and was as cold as the elements that embraced her childhood. Devils do not have souls, neither do ice and snow, so naturally, she did not have one.

He saw it differently. She knew he had always seen it in ways that even she could not comprehend. She had a soul, he insisted, and he would just have to find it, he said, completed with a huge goofy grin. She had slapped him then, and turned away, but something in her shifted.

He persisted, and she resisted, and so the cycle went on until she finally relented, and opened the tiny tiny window to her almost non-existent soul, and let him into her world, bit by bit, pieces by pieces.  
  
Letting him in meant opening herself to him, to him and his thoughts, to his private world, and she knew that. It didn't scare her like she thought it would, it wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be. Surely it was a battle to break down the carefully constructed wall that she had built over the years, and held rigid for just as long, the apprehension she had anticipated never came, and the wariness she held was never needed.

Because, he was, as always, different.

He never pushed her, and was content with the little he received. Never did he once force his way through that little window, he waited for the window to accommodate him, and naturally, he believed, that one day, she would understand him.

-

_If I can't have you_

_If I can't have you_

-

He never asked for much, because she never needed much. He didn't ask need deep, lasting conversations, and she didn't need long, soul-searching talks. There were times when silence that draped between them became the best form of communication there was. A goofy smile, a sheepish grin, and he knew, she understood. Even if there were no reciprocating smile, he never asked, he accepted it.

Because, she was all he wanted. He wanted her when no one else did, he believed in her when all, including herself, lost faith in her. He would not change anything about her, the slaps, the aloofness, the barking orders, the more than merely intensive training. It was because of those things that he wanted her, and he would not want anything more.

Subtlety was the key to opening her door, and it was because, like him, _she_ was different. She was unlike any girl, unlike any _human_. Yet, she was her. It was _her_, and he loved her. She understood his love for her, and he knew it, and therefore, he was content.

She loved him, too. It was not easy for her to come to terms with the plain and simple fact, but easier than she had anticipated it to be. Maybe loving him was something that was so fleetingly natural, and it wasn't anything she needed to admit to anyone, not even herself. Loving him was nothing unlike waking up everyday, walking, running, eating, _breathing_. It was just there, and part of her life, part of their lives.

He knew she loved him, even if she never said anything. Because there was no need for words between them, no desire for loud admittances of love, red roses every single day, candle-lit dinners and champagne at night. No need for mind games, tricks and such to test their love, or to prove anything.

She completed him, he complemented her. His capacity to touch her, to heal her, to love her was immeasurable and his greatest gift to her. She could not think of anything to give him back, but to love him, all of the lazy, bumbling, grinning, don't-have-a-care him.

-

_Some people want everything_

_But everything means nothing_

-

She never imagined life without him, because she never thought that she would have to go through life without him. He was meant for great things, dangerous things, perhaps, but great nonetheless.

Naively, the thought had once flitted across her head that he would live forever, _they_ will live forever. Goodbye was a word that never crossed her mind. So when goodbye came, she was at a loss. She didn't know how to face it.

She began by running, but as he gently reminded her with that ever present smile that running never solved any problems, she stopped running. She wanted to be angry, but there was no one to direct her anger at. She tried to rebuild her wall, but the wall fell when she realized that by doing so, she was being selfish. She was thinking about her, and her solely.

She never gave a thought as to how it might affect _him_.

It didn't affect me, much, he said, cheerfully. Life and death is something we all must go through, and when it is my time, it will be my time. I have lived, and lived well. She had been angry when he said that, he was much too callous about it, like everything else, then she saw the flash of uncertainty and fear in his eyes, and knew that he spoke for her.

She slapped him, called him a liar. We've never lied to each other, she told him, and don't start it now.

He was surprised, and then he smiled. Lifting his hand, he touched her face briefly, and met her eyes. I'm scared, he confessed, and she believed him. She stepped into his arms, and he held her, knowing, without words, that he wasn't the only one who was afraid.

They tried to go on with life as normally as they could, and tried not to think of what will happen, or what could have been. At night, they held each other as they drifted off to dreams. Sometimes they talked, but sometimes, there was no need for words. Sometimes she was scared, and sometimes he was, sometimes she woke up shaking from nightmares, sometimes he woke up covered with sweat, but they were always there, always beside each other. And it was enough, more than enough.

Sometimes she woke up with a start, and turned to see him staring at her, with a strange intensity in his eyes. She would asked him why he was looking at her, and he would shook his head, and smiled, not talking. He ran his hand over her hair, and gently touched every feature on her face, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, mapping a distant memory of some sort.

He would kiss her then, and she kissed him back, with all the love and strength she had for him. With all that she could give him, all that they had for each other.

It was a chilly night when he turned to her, and told her that he was tired. Go to sleep, then, she said. He then caught her hand and held it tightly, running his calloused thumb over her slender fingers.

No, I'm tired. I'm really tired.

A cold feeling enveloped her body as she turned and meet his eyes, clear despite the cloudiness that was beginning to haze over his life. And she understood perfectly what he meant.

She embraced him, kissing him for that one last time, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him, realizing, not without an awful sense of loss, that _it was the last time_. She held him close, and whispered that she loved him, she loved him from day one, always did, always will, and he grinned weakly, and said he loved her, too. He wanted to say he was sorry, but she would not let him.

She held him as he drifted off to eternal sleep, listening to his slowing breathing, and the eventual silence. His arms were still around her, his head on her shoulder, and he looked so peaceful, as if he was just sleeping, just _sleeping_, and nothing more.

She cradled him closer, a hot tear sliding down her hot cheek, and falling in the abyss of grief, she began to weep.

-

_If I can't have you_

_If I can't have you _

__

_-_

__

-Finis- 

damouse ®  
posted November 7th, 2004

Yoh had a disease. As for what, my brain refused to work out the mechanisms, so whatever. .

It actually felt strange to be writing Yoh x Anna again. To be honest, I never thought I would again. --'' But don't worry, I'm not abandoning my chaptered fics. I just need inspiration to start writing Yoh x Anna, and Mankin, in general again.

Till then, I wait to be executed tomorrow at the exam hall.

Review/comment/flame/whatever. Much appreciated. Very much so.


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